


BLOODSPORT

by stunt_pilots



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Brotherhood - Freeform, Dysfunctional Family, Enemies to Friends to Family, Gen, Murder, Pre-Canon, Torture, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-07-10 00:57:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19897246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stunt_pilots/pseuds/stunt_pilots
Summary: Almost 200 years after the Oblivion crisis, a former Champion of Cyrodiil and Silencer of the Black Hand finds home in one of the remaining sanctuaries in Tamriel





	1. 13th of Rain’s Hand, 4E 176 - Of Arrivals and Rules

**Author's Note:**

> The main character is a 200-year-old PTSD survivor who's been an assassin most of her life. There will be descriptions of torture and violence. Most of the chapters can be skipped as these do not contain continuous story but rather related or unrelated events from an order of assassins.

At first, no one spoke. A small waterfall on the opposite wall from the entrance disturbed the stillness as Delithraviel looked at the six pairs of eyes around her. A matronly Orc woman with hard eyes. A tall Argonian. A cautious Nord with a scar on the left side of his face. A Bosmer, sitting cross-legged by the waterfall. A middle-aged Imperial with a scowl. And a child with glowing eyes.

They all gathered at the entrance shortly after she entered, except the Bosmer who was already sitting there when Delithraviel showed up.

“Who are you?” the Nord asked, his harsh voice finally cutting the silence. He unstrapped a steel battleaxe from his back and raised it so the blade was close to the intruder's face. Nobody else drew their weapon. The Nord turned the right side of his face towards her as he stepped closer. It looked like he was blind in his left eye. Whoever had raked his face on that side took a good bit of flesh with it, ear included. Delithraviel wondered if he was the leader of this little outfit.

The Dunmer put her hands on her hips. “Someone who knew the password to your Black Door. I am one of you.”

“Which sanctuary are you from?”

“I have visited most of them. Does that matter?”

“How do I know you’re not here to kill us?”

She kept her face impassive and resisted a snort. “I am here, talking to you instead of doing that. Besides,” she carefully raised her tone to suggest mockery, “I am just one woman. Where have you heard of one person taking out a whole order of trained assassins?” The Argonian cocked his head and the Bosmer laughed out loud. Delithraviel continued. “Even if I had, wouldn’t you be glad to have someone like me?”

The Nord lowered his battleaxe, but the hard edge in his eyes remained. “Have you killed people before?”

“I have.”

“Oh, lay it off,” the Argonian grunted. “‘S not like we have new members lining up at our door.”

“She smells of blood.”

Everyone turned their heads to the speaker, the small Bosmer who hadn’t joined the welcoming circle. She approached the newcomer and sniffed.

“Imperial blood. Male.” Unexpectedly, she burst into laughter. “He soiled himself before he died.”

Delithraviel frowned.

“Oh, don’t worry,” the Wood Elf snickered. “You don’t smell of poo. His blood does.”

“Very well.” The Nord sheathed his weapon and stood straight, looking like he hadn’t a massive battleaxe weighing him down. “I’m Raleigh, the leader of Falkreath Sanctuary. And you are?”

“Delithraviel Mor-Krezah.”

Soon after she left Cyrodiil, she could expect some raised eyebrows when she introduced herself. With years, fewer and fewer people had heard of her name or the events associated with it. She preferred the anonymity.

The assassins around her stared blankly. It seemed like her fame had finally flickered out.

“There are a few beds. Pick any of the unoccupied ones.” Raleigh turned to go, then changed his mind and flashed her a cold smile. “Welcome home, sister.”

The crowd dispersed. Two figures remained. The Argonian and the Orc. The rotund woman offered the newcomer a kind smile.

“Don’t pay any mind to that, dear,” she said, clasping her ringed hands over her ample bosom. Her eyes had lost the edge. Now she looked like a worried mother. “Raleigh distrusts everyone at first. I suppose he should, as a leader. Can’t be too careful these days.”

She sighed heavily.

The Dark Brotherhood had been losing its influence in Tamriel rapidly. That wasn’t news to anyone, common people included.

The Argonian shrugged. “She knows that, Khaza. Don’t you, Dunmer? Are any of the sanctuaries you visited still standing?”

“I’m not sure,” Delithraviel admitted quietly.

The Orc smiled sadly and left them.

The Argonian introduced himself as Derkeeya and offered to show her around. He also told her the names of the remaining members. The grumpy Imperial mage was Festus Krex. The vampire child was Babette. And the small Bosmer was Shadow.

“Unusual name for a Bosmer,” Delithraviel remarked.

Derkeeya shrugged. “You can ask her about it. Maybe she’ll tell you the story behind it. Maybe she’ll cut your throat before you finish the question. Your choice.”

They traveled through the Nord ruin that served as the last remaining Skyrim sanctuary. There had been more people once, as evidenced by the number of empty beds they passed. Only a few souls now lined the walls. Raleigh had returned to a stone table in the biggest room and sat down on a chair, battleaxe nearby. Babette was standing next to an alchemy table, mixing a concoction. Delithraviel could smell the crushed nightshade and deathbell, some of the basic ingredients used in poisons to damage health. The child waved at them as they passed by, and flashed a smile, exposing sharp teeth. Khaza, the Orc, occupied a cooking pot. It smelled inviting, but Delithraviel had decided she wouldn’t eat anything they would offer her on the first week. Festus Krex was next to an arcane enchanter, muttering under his breath, making it very obvious he did not want company.

Delithraviel picked an empty bed in the remotest corner she could find. A small wall sconce illuminated the single cowhide thrown haphazardly on top of a bulky wooden frame. A small bedside table stood next to it.

“Here you are, then,” Derkeeya offered her a smile, which she returned after a slight hesitation. “Let me know if you have any questions. I promise I won’t kill you if you do. Unless--well, that doesn’t matter right now.”

“How do you find contracts if you don’t follow the Night Mother?”

Derkeeya barked a laugh. “The Night Mother is just a legend. Word travels around. Someone wants someone else dead. They perform the Black Sacrament. We hear of it. One of us contacts the summoner. I’m sure you know what happens then.”

Her displeasure must have slipped onto her face.

Derkeeya didn’t appear to be bothered. “Do you really believe that? Some woman whispering the will of Sithis into people’s ears?” He shook his head, candlelight dancing on his horns. “Sounds like rubbish to me. Festus has some thoughts on that if you want to complain to someone. The rest of us live in the present day.”

Delithraviel had expected that. The influence of once feared order was losing its grip on Tamriel. Assassins were abandoning their oaths. The Night Mother, once known as the Unholy Matron, was reduced to a figure in children’s fables.

“I see how that has worked out for you,” Delithraviel swept her arm in the general direction of empty beds.

“‘S like that everywhere. Might be a rumor. Might not.” The Argonian leaned closer. There was a cheerful twinkle in his green eyes. “From what I’ve heard, the decline of Brotherhood has started  _ because _ everyone was so keen on following the rules.”

“Tenets,” Delithraviel corrected him without thinking.

Derkeeya gave her a long look before continuing. “Wasn’t sure you knew of them. Yes. Tenets, whatever. If you ask me, we should do more. Kill a few people in a square in broad daylight. Slaughter a jarl. That sort of thing.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Look around. We can’t afford to lose anyone. Not even for a well-paid contract.”

“I hate to break this to you, but to get good at killing you need to kill someone.”

Derkeeya laughed, a deep sound that traveled to the other end of the cave they called a home.

“Well, what do you know. You might actually survive long enough to do that.”

“Are you a Shadowscale?”

Derkeeya grinned, displaying his small sharp teeth. “No. No one raised me into a life of stealth and combat. I’ve learned everything the hard way on the docks of Windhelm.”

“Thank you. That will be all.”

“Ask Babette if you need alchemy ingredients. Raleigh is good with big weapons if you like those,” he insinuated, his eyes hovering over the Daedric axe on her hip. “Probably not, but you never know. Khaza is the one you go to when you need healing or food. Festus likes destruction magic and complaining. Shadow… I’m not even sure what she likes.”

“And what are you good at?”

Derkeeya shrugged. “Lots of things. I’m a lover. And a killer. Usually, both on the same night, if the circumstances require.” He flashed his pointy teeth in a grin. “I’m also the only one here who can use a bow. You know where to find me if you ever need a backup arrow.”

“I can use a bow myself.”

“I knew you were a woman of many talents as soon as you walked in.”

With a nod, Derkeeya departed.

Delithraviel listened to his footsteps until she could hear them no more. She then drew a wolfskin coat from her backpack, added it to her meager bed and lay down to rest. The introduction had gone about as well as she had expected. She didn’t get to kill anyone. That was a shame. There would be time to kill later, she knew, but her hands itched for a new victim. The Imperial that the little Bosmer had smelled was hardly a satisfying target. Lazy and slow, despite his soldier uniform.

Her new family hardly seemed like a capable bunch. The vampire child looked powerful. The orc carried poison in her smile and the little pouches concealed in the belt. The rest she wouldn’t trust to watch her back. Derkeeya’s friendliness was a well-concealed beartrap. Their leader, Raleigh, might be an intimidating presence in a bandit cave but a hindrance in a discreet kill. As for the rest…

Delithraviel felt a presence nearby. Without turning her head, she tried to figure out who it was. A dog was her first thought when she smelled fur and mud. There were no pets she could see before. She gave up and turned around.

Shadow, the Bosmer, was sitting on an empty bookshelf, dangling her legs. She was dressed in leather armor with patches of long-haired fur and chainmail attached, her feet bare, dirt-caked up to the knees.

“Did you want something?” Delithraviel asked. If this was an assassination attempt, it wasn’t a very good one.

“I want you to tell me a story,” the Bosmer croaked. She had a husky voice that was too big for her.

“I don’t know any stories.”

Shadow threw her head back and laughed. “Ha! I don’t believe you. You’ve killed lots of people. I could smell it on you. Tell me about one of them.”

There was something about Shadow that Delithraviel couldn’t put her finger on. Something that quite possibly made her the most dangerous member of this family.

“What would you like to hear about?”

With a few quiet steps, Shadow left her perch and settled at the foot of Delithraviel’s bed. She frowned as the unwashed feet curled on her expensive wolfskin.

“I think I’ll tell you one instead. Something you said reminded me of a story I heard a long time ago. I don’t know the names or places, but I do know it’s true.”

“None of those things make a good story.”

Shadow gave her another hearty laugh. “I know that there was a sanctuary that was a home to many assassins, and the other day, they were no more. Someone had killed them all.” Delithraviel’s heart clenched but she kept her face empty of emotion. “Another member of the Dark Brotherhood. Not even a high ranked one. Ring any bells? Your heart rate’s increased.”

She extended a hand towards Delitraviel’s chest, and she slapped it away. Shadow sat back with a satisfied smile on her face.

Neither of them spoke. Delithraviel waited until her heart calmed before speaking.

“Now you have the name to your story.”

“Any more details?”

“I wasn’t low-rank.”

“Where did it happen?”

“Cheydinhal.”

Shadow’s eyebrows knitted.

“Cheydinhal sanctuary is still standing. Why did you leave?”

Delithraviel swallowed the lump in her throat. “It didn’t feel like a home anymore.”

Shadow seemed satisfied. She uncrossed her legs and left without looking back, leaving Delithraviel dwelling with painful memories she hadn’t touched in a long time.


	2. 14th of Rain’s Hand, 4E 176 - Of First Jobs Gone Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When tasked with a first contract, it's every assassin's job to make sure it goes as smoothly as possible. And sometimes, unexpected obstacles present new opportunities.

Morning dew glistened on the grass, gently swaying in the breeze. Delithraviel looked around herself until she found a patch of disturbed greenery. The wind blew against her face, bringing the scent of the prey. She crouched lower and followed the trail.

A few feet away, an elk was feasting on a green patch. The Dunmer notched an arrow and held her breath. As soon as he raised her head, she would--

The wind abruptly changed directions, sending her twin braids before her face and her smell with it. With only a split second’s warning, the elk raised his head and took off. He hadn’t made a lot of headway before an arrow hit his rump. The elk slowed down slightly but didn’t stop. Not until a second arrow lodged itself in his spine. With a cry, the animal fell.

Delithraviel came closer. He was dead, the glassy eyes reflecting the sky overhead. The antlers weren’t big and would bring more use in alchemy than trying to sell them in a store. The skin was fine, although her first stray shot would knock the price down. As for the taste…

Unsuspecting prey tasted better.

She began working on the elk, stripping away the skin and hacking off the antlers. The meat would be her breakfast. She had declined to eat at the sanctuary, even though the broth smelled inviting. She didn’t trust her new family not to poison her.

Delithraviel’s ears twitched. In the distance, she heard a sabre cat’s roar. The elf had expected that the scent of blood would attract attention. She readied her axe.

The cat poked its head. Delithraviel prepared to swing her weapon it into the cat’s skull. Before it could happen, however, a fireball came from her right and sent the animal flying in the opposite direction. Delithraviel turned her head sharply and saw Festus Krex, the Imperial mage.

“Raleigh wants to speak with you.”

Delithraviel’s eyes flickered between him, her prey and the sabre cat that didn’t get up after the magical attack. She collected her loot and followed the Imperial back into the sanctuary.

“What for?” she asked Festus’s back.

“I don’t know, woman! I didn’t ask. I told him, I said, Raleigh, I’m not your messenger, but do you think anyone listens to me? Pah!”

As soon as the Black Door opened to let them both in, he returned to his enchanter, still mumbling under his breath. Delithraviel deposited the remains of the elk on one of the empty tables and went to meet Raleigh.

The leader was studying the map of Skyrim, a frown hanging on his features. The uninjured part of his forehead was lined in concentration.

Delithraviel stood still until he straightened his back and looked down at her. He was a whole head taller than her.

“I have a job for you.”

“Did you receive it just now?”

His brow furrowed. “No. It is of no importance to you. Do you take the job?”

“Yes.” She would still follow the Tenets, even if no one else did.

“That’s what I like to hear.” However, his tone remained sour. “Your mark is in the village of Ivarstead, east of here.”

“I know of it.”

“A Redguard woman named Manith. That’s all I have.”

Delithraviel nodded and went to collect her backpack from where she had left in on her bed in the morning.

The venison she had brought was already being taken apart by several people.

“Thank you for the meat, dear,” Khaza said to her, bringing down her cleaver expertly and severing the muscle in one swift motion.

“No problem,” the Dunmer grunted in response. She’d have to find something to eat later.

Babette asked her if she could have the antlers.

“That’s why I brought them,” Delithraviel squeezed out a smile and went out into the forest.

* * *

The first half of her journey was quiet. She passed Helgen, ate at the inn and almost immediately after exiting the town, shot a rabbit. The arrow went clean through the skull, damaging none of the edible flesh. She left the skin for scavengers and, staking the rabbit on a somewhat clean branch, cooked it over a small fire she had conjured in her left hand. She knew she was being followed.

Whoever it was, they had synchronized their footsteps with her own. Delithraviel stumbled on purpose and heard their delayed approach a split second later. Still, it wasn’t enough to determine their location. She would need something more solid.

A wolf howl sounded not far ahead. A perfect excuse. She drew her axe and looked around, checking for a location her pursuer would hide in. Satisfied, she moved ahead until the wolf showed up. She drew her dagger with her left hand and waited. The wolf lunged at her. At the same time, Delithraviel turned and sent her axe flying in the opposite direction. It sunk into a tree a hair’s breadth away from Derkeeya’s head. With satisfaction, she noticed a split second’s horror passed on his face.

“You missed,” he called, his voice mocking.

Without turning, the Dunmer thrust her dagger at the approaching wolf and it went down with a yelp.

“No, I didn’t.”

Derkeeya’s lips twitched. He turned to the tree and withdrew her axe from the bark, then handed it to her hilt first as she approached.

“When did you know?” he asked.

“I saw you at Helgen. I thought I’d heard you before that.” She was paranoid, and more often than not, suspicious sounds were nothing more than suspicious sounds, but Derkeeya need not know that.

“Hmpf.”

Delithraviel collected her dagger and wiped off the blood on the grass, then continued on her path to Ivarstead. With a slight hesitation, the Argonian followed.

“Did Raleigh send you?” she asked.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Why else would you be here? You don’t like me. I assume getting caught wasn’t on your agenda.”

Derkeeya gave her another grunt instead of answering.

“What are you going to report to him? Going to pretend I didn’t see you?”

“I’m going to tell him the truth.”

“You’re not going to help me?”

“No.”

“Good.”

Derkeeya didn’t relax. A small muscle twitched in his jaw and he kept one hand on his bow, even though there were no animals around. Delithraviel wished they would encounter some bandits. She didn’t know how much of a fight her mark would present, and she itched for a battle. It would also be an opportunity to see how Derkeeya fights. She didn’t want to dispose of him yet, but wouldn’t shed any tears if he fell. And his bow was superior to her own.

“Don’t look back now,” Delithraviel said quietly to him, “but we’re being followed. Again.”

“What?” he snapped, his brow furrowed, but instead of checking for pursuit, he turned his head forward.

“Did Raleigh send anyone else?”

“No.”

“You’re sure? Maybe he didn’t trust you to report everything.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Dunmer,” he hissed. “I’m his right hand. It’s why I’m here instead of--”

“Eating poisoned venison?”

“You poisoned it?” He turned to her again, his teeth bared.

“No. I jest. Anyone could be cranky after being denied breakfast.”

He relaxed somewhat and continued walking. “They’re not walking behind us,” he noted.

Maybe Derkeeya wasn’t at all useless.

“No. They’re jumping the trees. Do you think you could shoot them with an arrow?”

“Yes.”

“NO!”

They both turned towards the cry and a second later, Shadow jumped out of a pine and landed before them.

“Shoot first, ask questions later? Are you serious?”

Delithraviel shrugged. Derkeeya approached the small Bosmer angrily.

“What are you doing here? Raleigh told you to stay back!”

“I wanted to come! I wanted to see her! Don’t you know who she is?”

“How could you hear us?” Delithraviel asked.

Shadow turned to her with wide eyes. “You heard me first.”

“No, I didn’t. I noticed birds taking off from the trees we passed.”

Shadow swore under her breath. “Doesn’t matter. I want to come! Can I come? Please?”

Derkeeya’s brow relaxed and he sighed.

Delithraviel shrugged and turned back on her path. If they wanted to follow, she wasn’t going to stop them. Shadow caught up with her and so did Derkeeya, after a pause.

“How are we going to do this?” Delithraviel asked conversationally.

“ _We,_ ” Derkeeya snapped, “are not doing this. You alone are.”

“That what Raleigh told you before he also reminded you not to be seen?”

Derkeeya grunted.

“What happened to attacking people in broad daylight and slaying jarls in their sleep?”

“That’s not what Raleigh ordered.”

“Come on, Scales,” Shadow whined. “Purple makes some sense.”

Scales did not respond to that.

“Just imagine, three people attacking a single woman in the middle of town,” Delithraviel continued, raising her voice like she was telling a tale of adventure. “Then run off in separate directions. They won’t know who to follow. Would be better if we had matching outfits, but you can’t have everything.”

Shadow was in her leather armor, her bare feet silent on the stone path. Derkeeya was wearing Dark Brotherhood armor in red and black.

“What’s what you’re wearing, Purple?” Shadow asked. “Doesn’t look like a mage outfit to me. Never seen one of them in something so… black. Not even necromancers.”

“It…” Her voice hitched for a second. “It was a gift.”

“From who?”

“Someone I knew a long time ago.”

“I’m going to help you,” Shadow decided.

“No!” Derkeeya protested. “Raleigh told us not to interrupt.”

“Told _you_ , Scales. Not me.”

“You weren’t even to come here.”

“But I did, didn’t I? So, what’s the plan, Purple.”

“I don’t know. Depends on whether or not _Scales_ is going to allow it.”

Both elves looked at the Argonian. Delithraviel had sensed that the displeasure he felt towards her did not extend to Shadow.

After a moment of consideration, his jaw relaxed.

“Fine,” he relented. “But he’s still going to have questions if we all come back together.”

“Oh, that’s true.” Shadow raised her eyebrows and turned to Delithraviel. She already had an answer.

“It’s full moon tonight. You can come back tomorrow, saying you’ve been out hunting.”

“How’d you know? Scales, did you tell her?”

“No.” He regarded Delithraviel coldly. “How did you know, Dunmer?”

“You mean it’s supposed to be a secret that Shadow is a werewolf?”

“No, but--” Shadow stuttered. “Usually, no one notices until I tell them.”

“It’s obvious.” Delithraviel continued on her path without waiting for her entourage to catch up. She already had their attention. “You heard us talking today. You smell like a dog. You have fur poking out of your ears and sharp teeth. You can hear people’s heartbeats. And you smelled five-days-old blood I had washed off. That I _thought_ I had washed off.”

“Oh,” Shadow gasped. “You’re good.”

“We’re here,” Delithraviel nodded her chin towards the town they had almost approached. “It’s time to discuss our plan.”

* * *

Delithraviel had just finished her late breakfast at the inn, when a Redguard woman walked in, accompanied by two small children. The innkeeper used her name when he asked what she’d like. Manith. The children ran outside after receiving a steaming bun each. Manith herself settled at the table for a more fulfilling lunch.

Delithraviel drew her hood tighter over her head. She didn’t need people remembering her purple hair later when the authorities asked witnesses about the possible killer. Grasping her cup tighter, she listened in. The target didn’t linger long at the table, finishing her meal quickly and leaving the inn to go after her children. The assassin followed.

Manith had just descended the stairs, when Shadow ran up to her, out of breath.

“Quickly,” the Bosmer said. “Something happened. Your children…”

“Where?” Manith asked, a note of desperation in her voice.

The target’s guard lowered, Shadow kicked her in the stomach. Delithraviel approached from behind, blade ready.

“My children…” The woman gasped, weakly.

Delithraviel grabbed her hair from behind and cut the throat, avoiding the blood spatter. Shadow was already running eastward, the opposite of the way they had come.

“Hey! You! Guards!” Someone shouted.

Delithraviel let go of the lifeless woman, dropping her into a pool of blood. People were slow to react. Before anyone could come closer, the assassin had disappeared beyond a shroud of an Invisibility spell.

She made her way slowly toward Derkeeya’s hiding place, leaving the panicked voices behind. The Argonian’s small eyes followed the imprints her feet made on the grass.

“It is done,” she spoke, and the spell dissipated.

“What about the children?”

“They’re alive.”

“Would’a been a mercy to kill them too, rather than seeing their mother die.”

Delithraviel shrugged. “Wasn’t in my contract. Not my problem. Should we go now?”

Deekeeya straightened out and departed without another word. Delithraviel followed him.


End file.
